


Lune

by cheekycal



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-04 04:24:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6641359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheekycal/pseuds/cheekycal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was the moon. </p><p>The good kind of moon. </p><p>The kind that entranced, let you feel every drop of pure light that radiated to your very core, at the last vital moment before the dark swallowed the light and drowned it in a sea of stars. </p><p>That kind of moon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. un

**Author's Note:**

> Hi so this is a fic I've been continually working on. It started out as a poem then I was like just kidding I apparently have to turn everything into a fan fiction so here's this lol. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK ITS ALWAYS APPRECIATED xxxx
> 
> (P.s I know the first chapter is short but others will be longer I promise ok)
> 
> (P.P.S. ****TRIGGER WARNINGS: There are references to depression and anxiety attacks in this story. There will also be references to self harm. Please read a your own risk. And remember you are loved very much. xxx)

He was the moon. 

The good kind of moon. 

The kind that entranced, let you feel every drop of pure light that radiated to your very core, at the last vital moment before the dark swallowed the light and drowned it in a sea of stars. 

That kind of moon. 

And so the moon followed it's path; he forged himself into a curve before he would refill on exultant thoughts. When he reached fullness, he would explode back into a shell of himself, trusting someone, anyone, to pick up the pieces. 

Michael always did. 

Calum let himself be carried away with his thoughts more often than not in the darkest hours of the night, and so Michael was there to help him through it. It was on one night in late November, however, that he didn't.

So, Calum waited. He heard Michael's loud, infectious laugh from all the way downstairs and across the house. Heard him chat the night away with Ashton, heard him sing karaoke and knock over a lamp while most likely trying to dance. Heard the sound of his thoughts echoing in his own mind, with no place to go, no escape through his vocal chords. 

A hollow moon. 

Calum stares out the window blankly, the crescent in the sky shining dimly from behind the never ending cluster of clouds. And after what seems like hours, Calum hears heavy footsteps up the stairs, and Ashton's obnoxiously noisy voice rambling about nothing. He perks up a bit when he hears Michael's faint "goodnight" outside his door, expecting him to come in. Instead, all he hears is a deafening silence, aside from the sound of a pat on the back. So they were hugging. 

And Calum definitely does not let a tear fall out of his eye.

After a few moments, the footsteps part in different directions, but no one comes through the door. Calum keeps waiting, and waiting, and waiting, until the small sliver of the moon is falling out of the sky and the soft sounds of the world waking up surround him tighter than the blanket he's wrapped up in.


	2. deux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol @ my life

Calum's eyes flutter open slowly, like the wings of a butterfly onto his puffy, sleep-deprived face. The sun floods the room with light, and he feels like he's drowning. 

The doorknob twists and Calum snaps his eyes shut, pretends he's sleeping. 

"Calum?" 

It's only Luke. 

"Hey, Cal," Luke tries again. Calum feels the bed dip by his knees, and he lets his eyes peek out from the covers, just barely. Luke smiles down at him, resting a comforting hand on his arm. 

"Ashton made lunch. I don't know about you but I'm starving. Come down and eat, yeah?" Luke asks hopefully, rubbing the older boy's arm softly. 

"Later." Calum says, reaching up to rub at his left eye with the back of his hand. The blonde boy's smile falters ever so slightly. He's worried. 

"Okay, Cal-Pal. Take your time. I'll make sure there's a warm cheese toastie waiting for you downstairs," Luke stands up to leave and Calum doesn't protest. He mumbles a quick thanks before he rolls back over towards the window. He doesn't want a cheese toastie. 

He wants the moon back. He wants the stars and the galaxies and all the planets. He wants the sun and the clouds. He wants darkness and light and joy and pain and good and bad and perplexed and enlightened and he wants it all. He wants Michael. 

And Michael he gets, when there's a soft knock on the door all but five minutes later. 

"I brought you a sandwich." He says casually, sauntering over to the bed upon entering. Calum watches him carefully, noticing the lack of eye contact. 

The raven-haired boy sits up in his bed, staring at the plate Michael placed in front of him. He thinks silently, tracing the edge of the plate with his fingers. Michael's voice is lost somewhere in his throat and he can't seem to find it, so Calum finds it for him. 

"You didn't see me last night."

And that's the thing with Calum: he strays from starting with I. It's always _ you _ . 

"Yeah," Michael verifies, still not looking in Calum's direction. The younger boy picks up a triangle of his sandwich, breaks off a piece with nimble fingers. 

"Needed you," he presses on. Michael's head drops noticeably. Calum isn’t good at forming proper sentences sometimes. Mostly because he doesn’t really know what to say.

"Yeah." Michael repeats, putting his hands together. 

"S'okay, you know," Calum says before putting a piece of the sandwich in his mouth. "You could've told me first." 

"I know," Michael says. He loses his voice again.

Calum finishes the first half of his sandwich quietly, while Michael sits on the edge of the bed with his head down. The younger boy leans forward and taps his shoulder three times in quick succession before retreating back to his original position. Michael twists around to look at Calum for the first time since yesterday afternoon, and the moon fills out a little bit more. 

Calum holds the remaining half of his sandwich out to his friend and Michael can't help but to smile. 

"You mad at me?" He asks, taking the sandwich gingerly. 

"Wouldn't have given you my toastie if I was," Calum shrugs, moving the plate to the bedside table. 

"But it's only half a toastie," Michael points out. 

"So?" 

"So are you half mad at me?" 

Calum grins crookedly. 

"No," 

"Promise?" Michael asks, but his smile is long gone. His voice changed, low and slow, the word a secret between them. 

"Promise." Calum confirms, eyes flicking across Michael's face. The older boy finishes the sandwich in less than five bites and swings his legs up onto the bed. He's wearing a dark blue sweater and a pair of skinny jeans that make his legs give Luke a bit of competition. Calum likes his sweater. It kind of makes him look like a fluffy kitten that he wants to pet between the ears. 

He scoots out from under the covers and absentmindedly puts his arms out, reaching for Michael without even trying, like it's some sort of natural instinct. Michael, however, doesn't complain as he pulls the younger boy into him, greedily, like he's been starved of this craving that's eating him alive. Calum is wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, and his bare legs feel slightly awkward slotted in between Michael's clothed ones. He doesn't say anything. 

"M'sorry," he mumbles into Calum's hair. "Should've been there. For you." 

"Me," Calum repeats, like he's trying to process it. He feels his own hot breath fan across the dips of Michael's collarbones, the way it bounces off his skin and returns to him like a gift. Michael smells really nice. Like detergent and soft cologne and a little bit of hair product. 

"You," Michael's arms tighten, and he tangles his fingers in the mess of curly hair on the back of Calum's head. Calum doesn't ask why he didn't come in last night. Doesn't ask why he didn't crawl underneath the covers and wrap himself around the gentle curve of his body. He wants to ask where he slept last night. If it was with Ashton after all. If he was alone, or with Luke. If he looked at the same moon. 

He doesn't, though. 

And then Ashton is barging in and Calum's heart breaks a little bit. Just because. 

And Ashton says they have an interview at 6 and John some other guys are coming over in a bit to get everyone ready. So Michael stands up and Calum watches his sweater get bunched up under his arm, the way his back muscles flex when he stretches up towards the sky, before the material falls back down. 

Michael offers him a hand out of bed and retreats to the closet. The younger boy stands patiently in the middle of the room and plays with his own hands and wants to hold Michael's. Michael returns with an outfit for Calum, complete with a fresh pair of underwear and socks. 

"I'll leave you to it, yeah?" Michael asks, handing them over. Calum makes sure their fingers touch as he accepts the clothes gratefully. He just nods and the red haired boy smiles with just the corner of his mouth before he leaves the room. Calum dresses slowly then, starting with the new boxers.

When he pads down the stairs moments later, Michael is hovering at the bottom, like he was waiting for him, but not. 

"Oh, hey Cal," Michael says as if he hadn't seen him only minutes before. Calum gives him a smile. A real one. 

"Hi, Mikey." 

Michael doesn't smile, looks at him with a soft expression and takes his hand. Calum tries to intertwine their fingers, but Michael's hand rejects the motion. He drops his head quickly and pretends like it didn’t happen. 

It's three o'clock by now, and John is early. Michael releases Calum's hand as soon as he sees John has brought Kuma along. The dog immediately runs to Calum, who perks up amazingly at the sight. He's on the ground in no time at all, playing and giggling with his favorite little animal. 

Four o'clock rolls around before they know it, and a crew is ushering them out the door and loading them into cars. Luke goes with Michael and Calum with Ashton. 

"You feeling alright?" Ashton asks after they've gotten out of the driveway. Calum looks at him, thinks for a moment, and then answers. 

"I'm not good but I'm not bad either," 

Ashton narrows his eyes slightly, more concerned than anything else. He nods slowly, reaching over to place his prodigious hand over Calum's. Calum wishes it was Michael’s hand. But Ashton’s is warm and soft but also a little bit rough on the pads of his fingers so he focuses on that. It feels nice.

“I love you Cal. We all do, okay?” Ashton assures him, giving a small squeeze. Although Calum’s positive the question is rhetorical, he gives a small nod anyways. And then they’re pulling into the place and they’re being pulled out of the car and rushed inside the building before the fans can get too close to them. 

And then Calum smiles and laughs and talks when he should and messes around with his friends like he knows they all want him to. And Michael is watching him carefully because he  _ knows  _ and Calum just wants to explode because he feels like he can’t take it anymore.

And then it’s over and Michael tries to slip into the same car as Calum but security doesn’t let him and Ashton is putting on his headphones and drifting off to sleep in the backseat before they’ve barely pulled away from the large building and Calum just wants to scream. 

He doesn’t, though.

He forgot his headphones so he just looks out the window with sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks. The sky is so dark because the clouds are too thick to let the moon shine through and that makes him sad. Everything makes him sad sometimes. 

When they reach the house, he gently wakes the sleeping boy behind him before clambering out of the car as fast as possible. He faintly hears Michael and Luke laughing and thanking security and the rest of the crew and he does not start crying, he really doesn’t. Then Ashton’s footsteps are catching up to the duo and he wants to yell and kick and throw a tantrum because they’re all having fun without him. Calum knows it’s only fair because he’s been acting cold to all of them but it’s still not the greatest situation. And to make it worse, Luke opens his big mouth.

“What’s the rush Calum?” He calls after the older boy, and Jesus  _ Christ  _ his words are slurred and he sounds so slow and he must have been drinking in the car with Michael. Calum doesn’t answer, doesn’t turn around, just keeps walking and tries to have no thoughts, no emotions. 

Calum walks around to the back of the house and slips through the unlocked door, taking the stairs two at a time. There are footsteps only a few paces behind him but he doesn’t turn around, no talking, no thoughts, no emotions. And he reaches his room and storms to his bed, grabs a throw pillow and opens the door to the balcony. He throws the stupid square pillow off of that deck and he watches it splash into the pool below. He’s satisfied. He didn’t even do that much but he’s satisfied. Wants to feel like that again so he turns around. Doesn’t look at the figure standing near the doorway but grabs another pillow, turns around, throws again.

More pillows, all the pillows, grabbing and crying and he vaguely remembers his vocal chords straining and oh _ \-- _ he’s  _ screaming,  _ and he can’t stop so he keeps going, pillows, blankets, pillows and pillows, sheets, and then Michael is yelling and grabbing him and won’t let go.

“Michael please!” Calum positively  _ screeches,  _ he grabs at Michael’s shirt, pushes with a force he didn’t know he was capable of. Ashton rushes into the room and he looks at the sight in front of him with sad eyes. He cautiously steps further into the room, wanting to help but not sure how.

“Calum, stop,” Michael’s voice is firm and rough and Calum shoves out of his grasp and falls face-first onto the rug. The red-haired boy drops to his knees and pulls Calum up to face him. He’s sobbing and hiccuping and there’s so much snot and so many tears streaking his face but he can’t stop. Ashton hovers near the doorway.

“Calum look at me,” Michael tries, but Calum’s eyes are screwed shut and he can’t. The older boy lets out a sort of strangled sound; he’s trying so hard to not cry, to let Calum think that he’s okay, that he really can fix this. Then Michael is letting go of him because he’s stopped struggling and there’s nothing else holding him together anymore so Calum falls apart in Michael’s lap.

The eldest boy sighs soft and slow, closing his eyes. He imagines all the tension draining from his body and counts to ten before letting Calum settle into his lap. The smaller boy curls into the warmth surrounding him, letting his tears drip onto Michael’s pants. Michael runs his fingers through the fluffy hair on his lap, scratches lightly at his scalp, just how he likes it. He can feel a large wet spot forming because of the tears and he wants to be disgusted but he can't. 

Ashton finally makes his way to the pair on the ground and he lowers himself gently onto his knees. He reaches an arm out and grips Calum’s hand tightly, a gesture that the youngest boy appreciates. Michael just ignores the way his heart sinks, and tries to speak to distract himself.

“Calum, I-”

“Want to take a shower,” Calum finishes his sentence. Not exactly the words that were going to follow but he guesses they’re okay. But then they’re not because the young boy sounds so wrecked and awful and Michael just wants to hold him in his arms where no one can see. He knows they should talk about this. He can’t just keep letting Calum fall apart.

“Okay,” He finds himself saying anyway. “Okay.”

So Michael lets Calum stand up on wobbly legs, catching him when he trips over his shoelace. Ashton hesitantly leaves after Michael assures him he can get Calum into the bathroom without the world exploding or something. 

The pair walk carefully to the bathroom and Michael gets him a clean towel and starts running the water. Calum sits fully clothed on the edge of the bathtub and watches his friend fuss over nothing--he’s straightening decor, wiping off the counter with his hand, placing dirty clothes in the bin. When there’s finally nothing left to do, Michael tries not to show that he’s a little bit sad to leave Calum alone. 

Michael walks hesitantly to the doorway, just hovering for a moment. He's facing Calum's room, sees his stripped bed and knocked-over lamp. Feels like he needs to fix them, just to keep himself busy. He turns back around to face Calum who's now standing near the sink, looking right back at him. The small nod the younger boy gives is all it takes for Michael to side-step back onto the tiled floor and close the door. And  _ fuck,  _ when did  _ this  _ become a thing that happens?

They look at each other for a moment longer before Calum bashfully turns away from Michael when he realizes he’s going to have to get undressed in front of him. Michael at least has the decency to look slightly embarrassed when he catches himself glancing at Calum one too many times while he rids himself of clothing as well.

Calum turns back to face Michael after a moment and -- wow. Just wow. Michael has seen Calum naked before; a kind of inevitable truth. But Michael has never seen Calum like this. Michael thinks Calum looks so small and helpless, puffy eyes and disheveled hair. He lets his eyes wander down for just a moment, just looking. Just looking.  _ Looking.  _

Calum's cheeks burn and he turns around, Michael's line of vision suddenly drawn to the way his back muscles flex and move under his perfectly tanned skin as he pulls open the door to the stand up shower. The dark haired boy follows him slowly. 

Calum reaches an arm out to test the water temperature before he steps in completely. Michael is close behind him, shuts the door as soon as they're both in. The younger boy is standing completely still, head directly under the running water.

Michael breathes in and out, in and out, watching droplets of water splash off Calum's head and run down his back. His hand develops a mind of its own and now he's moving his fingers out to brush lightly at the younger boy's shoulder blades. Calum swallows thickly, using a hand to brace himself on the wall. 

"Is this," Michael starts, has to stop when he feels Calum's shoulder twitch. "Okay, is this okay," He finishes, rushed out. It’s not even a question. He feels like sentences just won’t work right now. Sentences are too long and take too much time and too much time means his mind will go somewhere he really doesn’t want it to go. And then Calum is nodding, furiously he's nodding and leaning back a little bit into the touch. 

Michael isn't going to have sex with Calum. He's not, not now, not ever, but maybe later. Maybe later when he figures out if it's okay to want to have sex with your best friend, or if it's just something that happens.  _ Something. _ A feeling he doesn't know if he's allowed to feel, doesn't know if he  _ wants  _ to feel. Maybe Calum wants to feel it too. 

He lets it go for now. 

Then he's trying so hard not to look down, not to see what's happening below his current line of vision when he turns slightly to grab the shampoo. 

"Gonna wash your hair," Michael says softly. Hears the water landing onto the ground, looks down long enough to watch it swirling down the drain. Wonders if the maybe the drain would swallow him up too. 

But then Calum is leaning back, a silent approval as Michael closes the cap to the bottle. Michael wants to say something, anything, something that might make everything better. Everything seems so wrong and awful and horrible and then he's reaching up and his fingers lace through Calum's hair and the younger boy absolutely  _ melts  _ into the touch, too much and not enough at the same time and maybe it's  _ this.  _ Maybe this is what he's been waiting for, the thing that makes it all okay. 

Not showering with Calum. Not being naked with Calum, not running his fingers through Calum's hair. Just-- _ Calum.  _ He makes it okay. Okay. Very, very, very okay. 

Calum is so relaxed and pliant now, so very different than how he felt only a few minutes ago. Michael’s touch seems to send messages to his brain and although he might not know what they say, he is grateful. But something is wrong.

Maybe it’s just Michael making stuff up in his head, but he doesn’t know. Calum is making all these content little noises and doesn’t even feel the need to be embarrassed about it. Michael is freaking out because he doesn’t want Calum to turn around, and he has his hands in Calum’s hair and maybe he shouldn’t. He tries to think about something other than what’s happening. Dead cats. Ghosts. That one time he saw his grandma naked.  

“Michael?” Calum’s voice brings him back to reality. 

“Yes?” He tries to sound as casual as possible.

“It feels like you’ve been putting shampoo in my hair for the past thirty minutes,” Calum points out. And it might be true. Michael can’t even remember how long they’ve been in here. 

“Sorry,” Michael mumbles. “Here, wash it out.” He takes his hands out from Calum’s hair and yeah they definitely feel sore, like he’s been holding his arms up way too long. He grabs the conditioner as quickly as possible and waits for Calum to be finished rinsing. He doesn’t take his time, now. He makes quick work of massaging the conditioner in and getting it rinsed out, and doesn’t want to test his limits by picking up the body soap because that would mean he’d have to help Calum wash his body and --

“Michael!”

Michael lets out a yelp and almost slips into the shower wall. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?” Calum asks, turning around. Michael blinks.

“No- I mean, yes but, you’re- I’m supposed to be the one asking you that,” he says, pointedly looking at a specific shower tile and definitely not at Calum. Calum eyes him carefully. He doesn’t seem to be struggling to not look down. Does this mean he doesn’t want to look down? Does he think it’s gross? Should Michael care if he thinks it’s gross?

“You just seem really spacey. I guess,” Calum tells him after a moment. His voice sounds raw. “We should probably get out.”

Michael nearly sighs with relief. 

“Yeah. We should.”


	3. trois

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******TRIGGER WARNING******* there's references to self-harm in this chapter, please read at your own risk!!
> 
> also the ending makes it sound like the end of a whole story but it's not a swear i have more plans for this don't worry :) 
> 
> also don't forget to leave kudos and also feedback is much appreciated!! love you all!!!!!

Michael doesn’t see Calum like this often. Yes, he is sad a lot, and Michael sees that but he just thought he was...better. Maybe that was bad judgement on his part but he just can’t get over it. He can’t stop thinking about that moment they shared in the shower just a few days ago. Since then, Calum’s been quiet. Not necessarily quiet enough to raise suspicion from anyone but Michael, but quiet enough. Michael confronts him about it a few days later.

“What’s up?” Michael asks, the epitome of casual as he stumbles trying to sit down on the high bar stool in the kitchen next to Calum. The dark boy looks up from his phone, not even commenting on Michael’s little stumble.

“Twitter,” he says, shaking his phone a little bit as a gesture. Michael frowns. 

“I mean like, in your life. What’s up?” This time it’s Calums turn to frown.

“You’re always around me, you should probably already know,” he replies, and it comes out a little bit snappier than he had meant it. Michael doesn’t mention it. 

“Fine, then what’s going on inside your  _ mind _ ?” Michael questions, twisting a little bit in his seat. Calum sighs softly.

“Do I ever know?” He laughs weakly. “Sorry, Mikey.”

“Don’t apologize,” Michael is quick to respond, reaching out to place a steady hand over Calum’s shaking one. “You don’t ever have to apologize to me. You know that.” Michael uses the same tone he used to use with Calum, when they were fifteen and laid in the darkness of Calum’s room, whispering and discussing life. Calum bites his lip, suppressing the memories.

“Okay.”

Luke and Ashton walk in shortly after a moment of comfortable silence, the latter following closely behind the younger boy. They’re dressing in running shorts and singlets, signifying they were out for a run. 

“Since when does our little Lukey go on runs with Ashton?” Michael jokes, standing up to stretch his arms a bit. Ashton laughs and Calum goes back to whatever he was doing on his phone quickly, not really wanting to talk to anyone. Luke’s eyes flicker to the boy, and he notices his change of behavior, so he doesn’t say anything to him. 

“Ha, ha, very funny, Michael. Haven’t seen you out on a run in...well, forever,” Luke responds, gratefully accepting a plastic water bottle that Ashton hands him.

“Running is for douche bags,” Michael grumbles, crossing his arms. Luke laughs and then he and Ashton fall into some long conversation about which way they should go next time and what running shoes work better for which terrain or some stupid shit like that, so Michael gets bored and retreats to the living room to watch TV. He invites Calum, who politely declines and stays put. 

All but five minutes later, Michael stops hearing voices in the kitchen. He doesn’t think much of it, until he hears the sound of a bar stool scraping loudly across the floor, and then seemingly falling on the ground. However, he still doesn’t feel the need to actually go an investigate, assuming it’s probably just Luke and Ashton messing around. 

But then Calum is walking, albeit quick enough to basically be considered jogging, through the living room and bounding up the stairs. Luke and Ashton come out shortly after and Michael blinks at him. 

“Michael, you need to go up there right now,” Luke says quietly, and he looks hurt. Michael doesn’t really know what to make of the situation but he’s on his feet and up the stairs before Luke’s barely finished speaking. If something serious enough happened for them to ask Michael to go up there instead of one of them, he doesn’t know if he should be flattered or even more worried; he wonders if maybe some teasing went a little bit too far and now they can’t stand to face him. Michael knows how thin the line can be with Calum on certain days. There’s times where Calum can be completely fine, laughing, making jokes, messing around, even smiling that pretty smile that makes it all the way to his eyes. But there’s also times when Calum just can’t be pushed too far, and Michael knows it’s probably just one of those days.

“Calum?” Michael calls softly, pushing open the only door that had light shining under the door frame. What he sees is not really what he’s expecting. Calum is sitting on the bed, shirtless, furiously scratching at the inside of his right arm. Tears streak his face but he doesn’t look sad, he looks...angry.

“Calum!” Michael screeches, rushing to his side and pulling his arms apart. Calum screams, trying to fight Michael’s grip like his life depended on it. Michael can’t stop the tears that come out of his own eyes as he watches his best friend breaking in front of him. He thinks about a week ago when he held Calum just like this in his own room.

“Michael, I tried to hide it, I didn’t want them to see,” Calum sobs, chokes on his own spit. “They weren’t supposed to know, it wasn’t supposed to happen,”

“Calum it’s okay, they still love you,” Michael assures him, wrestling Calum successfully to the ground. Calum’s head falls to the side and he strains his neck trying to look away. Michael cries. 

“They can’t love me, Michael, look at me! Look at my arms,” Michael looks. He wishes he didn’t. “They hate me. They fucking hate me.”

“They don’t hate you, Callie, they don’t,” Michael tries again. He uses Calum’s favorite nickname. He can’t fucking stop thinking about two years ago when he found Calum lying on the bathroom floor, screaming, in a small pool of his own blood. He can’t fucking stop. He cries some more. “They love you, so much. More than you will ever know,”

“I’m sorry,” Calum chokes. “I couldn’t stop, they just itched so much,”

“Hey, hey, don’t apologize, remember? Remember what I said to you ten minutes ago? No apologizing. It’s all in your head, Callie, all in your head, I promise you,” Michael says. Calum stops fighting Michael, goes limp instead. “All in your head,” Michael repeats, reaching a hand down under Calum’s torso and pulling him into his own body. Calum shakes and heaves and Michael could care less about the blood on his clothes and the carpet right now. 

“Make it stop,” Calum sobs, making a fist around some of Michael’s shirt. Michael runs a hand down Calum’s back.

“I’m trying,” Michael’s voice breaks. Eventually though, he realizes he has to pull back and tend to Calum’s wounds. Calum whimpers when Michael pulls away, and Michael wants to fucking kill whatever higher power is letting him feel this way. He reaches for Calum’s discarded shirt, and wraps it tightly around Calum’s right arm, tying it off at the end. 

“All better, now, Callie,” Michael coos, reaching up to run a hand through Calum’s hair. He looks into his eyes and hopes that his words are true. “Do you wanna go see Luke and Ash?” Michael asks softly. Calum whines.

“I think they would like to see you,” Michael tells him, dropping his hand slightly to rest on Calum’s shoulder. It all feels strangely domestic, and Michael almost has to remind himself that it would not be appropriate to kiss Calum, who is his  _ friend.  _

Calum reluctantly agrees and they make their way downstairs, fingers intertwined the whole way down. Ashton and Luke are sitting in the seats closest to the stairs, just waiting. Upon seeing Calum, they both spring up out of their seats, but just hover, afraid to get too close -- like they might startle him or something. Which is partly true because Calum flinches slightly upon seeing them. Michael squeezes his hand and nods to the two standing by their seats.

Ashton is the first to make a move, and Michael drops Calum’s hand when he walks towards the younger boy.

“I could never hate you, Calum,” Ashton says, voice wavering like he might break down at any second. Calum nods and Ashton reaches out to squeeze him tightly, careful of the arm that is wrapped in a shirt. “I’m just worried about you. But we love you so much, you have to know that,” he says, hugging the boy a little tighter. Calum is about to apologize, but then he remembers what Michael has told him, so he doesn’t.

“I love you, Ashton,” he says instead. 

Luke is the next one to step up. As soon as Ashton pulls away, he goes in for a hug. He doesn’t even try to hide his tears when he buries his face in Calum’s neck. 

“I’m sorry, Calum, I should’ve never pointed them out like I did,” he says, his voice muffled slightly by Calum’s skin. “But I want you to be okay, and you weren’t- you weren’t okay. I love you so much. I love you, I love you, I love you,” 

Calum laughs a little bit, but it doesn’t hold much weight behind it. It’s more like a relieved noise, and it’s music to Michael’s ears. Ashton reaches around Luke to hug both of them at the same time, and now it’s Luke’s turn to let out a shaky laugh. Michael figures he should probably do something other than just stand there, so he situates himself behind Calum and wraps his arms around the other boys as well. He tilts his head down to press his lips to Calum’s shoulder, more of an ‘I’m here’ gesture than anything else, but Calum feels his heart rate pick up nonetheless.

“I love you all. So much.”

Calum doesn’t think he’s ever meant something so much more than he does at this very moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi to me! I'm on twitter at @whitevanscal and tumblr @ haphazardlace xxx

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr if you'd like!! @ haphazardlace


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